


i'll still feel the same around you

by paddingtonfan69



Category: Teenage Bounty Hunters (TV)
Genre: Birthdays, F/F, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, but it gets better (tm), in this first part, some angst here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:28:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29982876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paddingtonfan69/pseuds/paddingtonfan69
Summary: “April’s right,” Blair says, and in April’s ten years and eleven months on this planet, she’s not sure there’s a greater satisfaction than those two words right after each other.“Thank you,” she says smugly.“But!” Blair says, grinning, “our party is so going to be better than yours.”“Oh, you’re so on.”“Can we not?” Sterling asks. They both ignore her.It becomes a sort of competition then, to see who can have the better party. All under the guise of good fun of course. But April willnotlose.__Or, April celebrating Sterling's birthday over the years.
Relationships: April Stevens/Sterling Wesley
Comments: 24
Kudos: 107





	i'll still feel the same around you

**Author's Note:**

> In classic me fashion, this spawned from a tiny idea that I wrote in another fic about Sterling feeling weird about her zodiac sign and then thought "hey let's explore that" and now I have 20k words over three parts and it's barely about astrology, oops. We're having fun with this one, kids!!
> 
> Overall title from One Direction's "Act My Age" and chapter title from from George Harrison's "Pisces Fish."

“You know what we should totally do?” 

Sterling’s eyes light up as she asks the question, and April knows exactly what’s coming.

It’s a warm day in the beginning of March, a few weeks away from Sterling and Blair’s eleventh birthday, with April’s following a week later. They’ve been vaguely talking about birthday plans, perched on a table at recess, and April knows, she just knows, what words are about to come out of Sterling’s mouth next, and she also knows that she needs to put a stop to it. 

So apparently, does Blair, because she shoots April an understanding look before they both turn to Sterling, united. 

“We are not having a joint birthday party,” they say at the same time. 

Sterling pouts a little. “Aw, why not?”

“First of all,” Blair says, “I already have to share my birthday every single year with you-”

“Hey!”

“And now you want me to share it with a third person too? No offense, April.”

“None taken,” April says quickly, “and, to add to that, one of the reasons I enjoy being an only child-”

“No one enjoys being an only child,” Sterling interjects, and Blair nods seriously. April rolls her eyes. 

“As I was saying, it’s that I get to have things that are solely mine - like birthday parties.”

“April’s right,” Blair says, and in April’s ten years and eleven months on this planet, she’s not sure there’s a greater satisfaction than those two words right after each other. 

“Thank you,” she says smugly. 

“But!” Blair says, grinning, “our party is so going to be better than yours.”

“Oh, you’re so on.”

“Can we not?” Sterling asks. They both ignore her. 

It becomes a sort of competition then, to see who can have the better party. All under the guise of good fun of course. But April will _not_ lose. 

The Wesleys choose roller skating, which April has to admit had all the makings for a good party. It’s really fun too, a fact that April curses, despite thoroughly enjoying herself. The best part of the party isn’t even when she dominates at limbo (which she does) or the fact that Sterling and Blair’s parents bought one of those massive sandwiches for everyone (how do they taste so much better than normal sandwiches?). The best part is when she finds Sterling alone on a bench outside of the rink, catching her breath. April skates up to her, settles by her side. 

“You’re really good out there,” Sterling says and April finds herself smiling down at her skates. 

It’s one of the odd things about being such close friends with Sterling, how Sterling will always compliment her. April is used to having to earn compliments; the Stevens house does not give out praise unless it is earned. But saying nice things apparently comes to Sterling as easy as breathing. 

“Thanks,” April says awkwardly, before reaching into her pocket. “I, um, got you something.”

Sterling looks at her, confused. 

“Yeah, so did everyone else here, that’s why there’s the big table over there with all the presents.”

April rolls her eyes. “Yeah that’s the present that my mom picked out for you and Blair. This is one I got, well, just for you.”

She feels herself get a little red as she places the little box on Sterling’s lap. 

“Oh, wow,” Sterling says, shooting April a dazzling smile before opening it up.

April swallows. It stupid really, just a necklace from Claire’s from when April’s mom had taken her there a few weeks ago, because apparently April needed to have more feminine accesories, which, ugh. April had been prepared to hate the particular attempt at mother-daughter bonding, but her eye had caught on a simple necklace, nothing fancy, just a silver heart on a chain, and she was drawn to it. So much so that she let her mom believe she was buying it for herself, then when they got home, she went upstairs and put it in a shiny box for Sterling.

“It’s beautiful,” Sterling says now, and April feels something relax in her chest. She doesn’t know why it’s so important that Sterling loves it, but it just is. “Can you help me put it on?”

April nods, fingers shaking for some weird reason as she brushes a bit of hair away from Sterling’s neck so she can do the clasp. 

Sterling beams at her once it’s on. “How does it look?”

“You look really pretty,” April says before she can stop herself. “I mean, the necklace looks really pretty.” She knows she’s still blushing, which is weird and embarrassing, all she’s doing is giving her friend a birthday gift on her birthday. 

“Thanks,” Sterling says, fingers fiddling with the heart. “It’s really - you know, I love sharing a birthday with Blair, I always have, but, it’s nice to have something that’s just… for me. So thank you.”

Her eyes crinkle up at the corners when she smiles at April and April smiles back, before holding her hand out to Sterling. 

“Should we get back out there?”

Sterling grins, and takes it, hand warm and solid in April’s. 

So, yeah, it’s a really good party. 

But still, just because April is good at roller skating and sometimes feels like a smile from Sterling Wesley is the best thing in the world, doesn’t mean she will back down from a competition. 

The next week, just in time for April’s birthday, the weather gets nice again. Like, high 70s nice, like the men that Daddy hates on the news saying things like “climate change,” nice. She sends a quick thanks up to God for the clear skies, and the next Monday at school, she passes out handmade invitations for her party.

Blair glares when she gets it.

“What’s wrong?” April asks sweetly, “you don’t like pool parties?”

“No,” Blair groans, “everyone loves pool parties."

“Exactly. Check. Mate.”

“Maybe next year, we can all do something together?” Sterling weakly suggests. 

“Next year, we will crush you,” Blair declares. 

Sterling slumps. April grins, already looking forward to it. 

However, when their 12th birthdays come around, there is no joy in the competition. April feels the need to win deep in her gut, feels the need to prove to the Wesleys (okay, mostly one Wesley) that anyone who has the nerve to think of her as disposable has another thing coming. 

In mid-March, she gets the courtesy invite for Sterling and Blair’s 12th birthday party (their parents have apparently rented a karaoke machine and a photobooth for the event, how passé), and she knows she has to act. 

“Daddy,” she says as soon as he comes home from work that afternoon, “do you still know people at The Dome?”

He slowly nods. One very convincing argument later, April holds the keys to absolutely demolishing the Wesleys’ birthday plans. 

The photobooth ends up being pretty fun, not that April would tell anyone this. There’s a pretty cute one where it looks like she’s kissing Jessica’s cheek and it brings a little smile to her face. 

“So,” she hears, and immediately pockets the photo as Blair approaches her, with the confidence that only a 12-year-old two slices of cake deep in at her own birthday can possess, “enjoying the party?”

It would seem an innocuous question, but April knows better. Blair hasn’t forgotten about their competition any more than April has, though there is no friendly blanket of mutual enjoyment anymore. She knows Blair is in it to win it, just as she is.

“It’s… cute.” April says, giving Blair her sweetest smile. 

“Please, this is a freaking amazing party. And it's just sooo weird, I haven’t heard anything about yours.”

April widens her eyes in fake shock. 

“Oh, did I forget to tell you? It’s a little awkward, because I couldn't really invite the whole class to something so exclusive.”

“You’re bluffing.”

April had been prepared for this specific moment. Only when she imagined it, Sterling was here too, to witness April crushing both of them, and maybe crying a little. But Sterling is off at the snack table, sharing cake messily with Luke. Gross. Whatever. She shakes Sterling from her mind as she reaches into her bag and pulls out five shiny tickets.

“Beyoncé. The Georgia Dome. May 1st.”

“Shut the fuck up. That sold out in, like, two seconds.”

April starts a bit at the profanity, but doesn’t let it get to her, instead reveling in the disbelief washing over Blair’s face that turns quickly into anger. It almost makes it all worth it, the frankly embarrassing begging she had to do from her father, the several demeaning things he said about Beyoncé of all people, which made her kind of want to throw up, before he finally agreed to make the call for the tickets, because _anything for you, baby girl._

But now, rage hardens in Blair’s eyes, and April wants to tell herself that this is why she did it (also, because, like, it’s _Beyoncé,_ come on), that this is what she wanted. She won. 

As her and Blair are locked in a staring contest, Sterling bounds over to them. She has a bit of frosting on her lip and April has the unreasonable urge to wipe it off for half a second, before she remembers where she is. Who she is. 

“What’s going on?” Sterling asks, looking back and forth between her sister and April.

“April got Beyoncé tickets for her birthday,” Blair grits out.

“Shut up, that’s so cool!” Sterling enthuses, annoyingly misreading the situation. 

“It’s not cool,” Blair snaps, “April is going to Beyoncé for her birthday, while we are just here at this lame party.”

“Hey! This is a nice party.” She turns to April, still smiling for some reason. She shouldn’t be smiling. She _lost._ “I bet Beyoncé is going to be great though, you’re going to have so much fun!”

“Ugh,” Blair and April say at the same time, and April vows to do something even more devastating next year. 

And so it goes, for the next few years, constantly trying to outdo the twins (okay, mostly Blair, Sterling always just tries to be _nice_ about it) each time she ages a year.

Her sweet sixteen is the best one yet. Daddy gets a private plane to fly a few of them to one of the Florida Keys for the weekend, flooding Instagram feeds with the beach and virgin daiquiris and sunburns that she knows will absolutely demolish whatever low-rent DJ the Wesleys procured. 

“Florida looked so fun, that’s awesome,” Sterling tells her the next Monday at school, all bright smile, and April wants to kill her. 

Blair just flips her off. April much prefers that. She’s already started on an Excel document of ideas for when they all turn seventeen, seeing if she can somehow get an international trip out of it, or maybe, if the headliner isn’t too liberal, snag some Coachella tickets. 

The aptly titled “Seventeenth Birthday Extravaganza That Will Make Sterling and Blair Wesley Feel Like Garbage” spreadsheet is unopened after September, though. For obvious, life changing, the-man-who-raised-her-is-a-monster reasons. 

The only time she thinks about it comes at a family dinner a few nights after her father comes back from prison, April staring down at her food like she is actually supposed to be able to stomach anything with a man who beats women sitting across from her. 

“What do you want to do for your birthday?” John asks, all fake paternal cheer, and April grips her fork so tightly it cuts into her palm. 

“I don’t know,” she says, trying to pretend like this is fine, this is just a normal family dinner, this is not a man who now inspires a fear in her bones whenever she catches his eye, a man whose approval she would have done anything for a few months ago, but now she wishes she could physically injure without fear of retribution. “That’s still a long way away, Daddy.”

“Just think about it. I want it to be extra special this year.”

They never get there. 

In February, her father doesn’t come home from work. He’s a few hours late, then a few days late, then a he-ran-off-to-Cancun-with-a-nineteen-year-old late. It’s shocking, honestly. April thought she was done letting that man’s actions shock her, but apparently, they can. 

It’s not surprising in retrospect, that he would leave them in an even worse place than when he was arrested. It’s also not surprising that their community reacts with more vitriol to a man leaving with a younger woman than a man physically assaulting a sex worker. 

So all in all, it's not surprising that, a few weeks after it happens, April’s mom sits her down and says they are moving to Charleston to be with her grandparents as soon as April finishes junior year. 

The most surprising thing is that April feels anything but glad at the prospect. Even if the last six months have been the worst of her life (with that one week of a bright spot that April refuses to acknowledge), it feels like giving up to just leave, to abandon the place she’s known her whole life.

She doesn’t tell anyone about the move at first, knowing it will spread like wildfire at school and she would just really love to not be the subject of a rumor for one second in this hellish year. 

So she just sits at school, like things are normal, like her social status hasn’t sunk an embarrassing amount over the course of junior year. Like the thought that this is her last year at Willingham doesn’t fill her with an acute combination of relief and sharp heartbreak. 

April doesn’t think it’s fair, really, in between her family imploding and leaving the only home she’s known for just shy of seventeen years, she still wakes up on March 26th with the innate knowledge that today is Sterling Wesley’s birthday. (And, like, Blair’s too.) Not that she’s even talked to Sterling since she sat on a bench and told her she couldn’t give into the one good thing that has to her happened this year. 

Still, she goes into school on March 26th, wondering if Blair will continue their unfriendly competition and pull out some wild stops. It would be a bold choice, given how April’s family has been dragged through the mud, but also Blair has been shooting her grumpy protective sister glares ever since October, so it’s really anyone’s game. April would almost respect her if she tried to pull some crazy party stunt just to fuck with April. 

She doesn’t, of course. In fact, there would be almost no sign that it was the Wesleys’ birthday if Spanish class wasn’t one of those places, akin to The Cheesecake Factory, where it is still socially acceptable to sing happy birthday in public. 

_Feliz cumpleaños a ti, feliz cumpleaños a ti,_ echoes with no pitch through the classroom when Sterling and Blair walk in, and April almost feels bad for them. 

Especially Sterling, who looks like she just ate a piece of rotten fruit, her face momentarily contorting for a second before a forced smile comes out. April wonders if anyone else in the class notices, even though she supposes most of her peers haven’t spent years of their lives analyzing the facial cues of Sterling Wesley. 

The moment passes, though, and class becomes class again. April has to actively tell herself not to turn back in her seat to check on Sterling. They aren’t friends, they aren’t anything, they aren’t even going to be living in the same city in a few months. 

April hates how much that hurts. 

After class, she finds herself walking a few feet behind the twins in the hallway, still so aware of Sterling’s body language, how it’s hesitant and awkward, not the confident posture April has observed for basically ten years at this point. She watches as Sterling shrugs off Blair’s hand on her shoulder, offering a weak smile to her sister before turning away from her and heading out of the door that leads to the football field.

April shouldn’t follow, for a myriad of reasons, one of which is that she should be in gym right now. But she thinks the math might line up to tell Coach Boone she’s on her period, and one of the better side effects of leaving so soon is that she really doesn’t have much to lose. So before she can overthink it, she opens the door, following Sterling as she walks across the lawn, down to the field, and settles herself on the bleachers. April watches her shoulders slump a little as she takes some deep shaky breaths, then puts her head in her hands. 

And, oh God, Sterling is crying. April hasn’t seen Sterling cry since _she_ was the reason Sterling was crying. That thought combined with the way Sterling’s face scrunches up, makes April swallow thickly, make her long to be someone who could just walk up to Sterling and hold her until she stopped crying. 

But she can’t do that; she’s not here watching Sterling cry because they’re close or because Sterling trusts her or thinks of her as a friend, she’s here because she’s basically stalking a girl she hooked up with six months ago, like some kind of serial killer. 

She’s about to go, about to turn on her heel and never mention this again, when she hears a soft sob, and Jesus, April may have complicated feelings about the girl, but only a monster would just turn and walk away now. 

April clears her throat loudly, not wanting to sneak up on Sterling or anything, before slowly approaching the bleachers. Sterling looks up, wiping her eyes. 

“Hey,” she says wetly. 

“Hey,” April responds, “I can - I can leave and forget I was ever here if you want, but I just - I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“Oh I’m just fucking peachy,” Sterling says with a harsh little laugh that makes April start. “Clearly.”

April tentatively steps a bit closer, perches on the bleachers a few feet away from Sterling. 

“Not a great birthday, then?”

Sterling looks down at her hands, fingers fiddling with the edges of her sleeves, before turning to face April directly. 

“It’s not my birthday.”

“What?”

Sterling laughs again, a sharp puff of breath. 

“It’s not my birthday,” she repeats.

“Sterling, what are you talking about? March 26th has been you and Blair’s birthday for as long as I can remember-”

“March 26th is Blair’s birthday,” Sterling says, throat rough. “Blair was born on March 26th at 12:09pm to Anderson and Deborah Wesley, just like it says on her birth certificate. I was born - I was born on either March 13th or 14th, they don’t even know - to Dana Colepepper and - this is a direct quote - ‘some guy named Barry.’ They don’t even know his fucking last name, isn’t that just like, some stupid metaphorical cherry on top of this whole stupid shitstorm?”

She stamps a foot on the bleachers, her words turning into a frustrated almost-growl. April just stares in shock. She doesn’t know what she was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t something that sounds like a plot from one of her mom’s soap operas, something that April still knows takes one of Sterling’s most proud identities - being a sister, being a _twin_ \- and tearing it apart. 

April has about a thousand questions she’s dying to ask (is Sterling even technically related to her family? When did she find this out? Did someone just pull an Exodus and throw baby Sterling in a basket down the Chattahoochee River?), but Sterling’s eyes are so blue and watery and she just looks like she’s given up, like something she can’t control with her family has stripped her of what she has known for years. And if April has learned anything in her seventeenth year, it’s that feeling. 

So she doesn’t ask any follow-up questions. 

Instead, she says, “you should choose.”

Sterling blinks, the sadness in her eyes temporarily replaced by confusion. 

“Choose what?”

“You said you don’t know if it’s the 13th or the 14th. Choose one.”

Sterling just stares at her, so April barrels on.

“I would personally go for the fourteenth. It’s a fun number - three-fourteen - the first three digits of pi. That way you won’t forget it.”

“I can’t - this isn’t, like, something I can broadcast or anything. It says March 26 on my birth certificate, on my driver’s license, on social media. I can’t just change it.”

“It doesn’t have to be for the world. It can just be for you. Everyone deserves a birthday, Sterling. Even if you’re the only one who knows.”

Sterling just looks at her, eyes still watering a little. She wipes a tear a way. 

“I guess you’re right.”

April smiles. “The four little words every girl dreams of hearing.”

This gets a laugh out of Sterling, and it feels like a victory.

“The fourteenth it is,” Sterling says softly. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” April says before venturing, “so, um, why did you tell _me_? I’m not exactly known for my kindness and tact.” 

Sterling laughs _again_ and April wonders if this is what sex feels like, the sharp joy of making Sterling Wesley laugh after she had been crying. 

“I don’t know,” Sterling says, “I just need to tell _someone,_ I think, who wasn’t directly involved in it. And who wouldn’t pity me. God, I’ve had enough pity over the last few months than I need in my entire life, trust me. I knew - I just knew you wouldn’t pity me.”

“Pity really is the fucking worst,” April agrees. 

She leans back a bit, elbows on the cold metal of bleachers. She sees Sterling lean back as well. They both sit there for a second before Sterling clears her throat. 

“I am sorry, though, about your dad. Again.”

“Yeah, me too,” April says with what may be a laugh. Then, just because, even when they’ve both got very specific dark shit going on, April can’t help messing with Sterling a little, “this time it’s not _technically_ your fault.” 

Sterling’s eyes get comically wide, as she squeaks, “oh, uh, you found out about that?”

“I’m not an idiot.”

“April I’m so sorry, I know I should have told you-”

“It’s whatever.”

“It’s whatever? Who are you and what have you done with April Stevens?”

April laughs, surprising herself. 

“I’m thinking about embracing nihilism.”

Sterling laughs at that too. “Let me know how that goes. Maybe I’ll join you.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I was thoroughly mad at you for a long time, but then I was so busy being mad at _him_ and that just kept growing and growing and eventually there wasn’t any room to be mad at you anymore.” April lets out a long breath. “She’s only two years older than me. Isn’t that just _disgusting?”_

“Just like _The_ _Parent Trap.”_ Sterling says. “I mean, nothing like _The Parent Trap,_ that dad was actually a good guy, and, well...”

“Well, indeed.”

“It’s weird,” Sterling says, staring straight ahead. “That used to be my favorite movie when we were kids. Blair and I would talk about if our parents had split up and sent us to the same summer camp, we totally still would have found each other, even though we aren’t identical, that we would just know somehow. Now - I just - now it’s just another reminder that we’re not even…”

Sterling squeezes her eyes shut.

“Hey,” April says, daring to reach out and put her hand on Sterling’s knee. “As someone who has known you and Blair for most of my life, trust me when I say, not only would you guys find each other at summer camp, you'd be just terribly obnoxious about it. You’d say everything in unison and do that annoying thing where you compliment each other all the time, and God, you would let every single person know how close you are.”

Sterling lets out a watery laugh. 

“You think so?”

“I know so. Even if you don’t have the same birthday any more, you two are still you two. Blair loves you so much that I was afraid she was going to throw a birthday party just to get revenge on me for breaking up with you.”

“Oh my god,” Sterling says, “maybe the only good thing about all this trauma is that you two stop your stupid birthday party feud.” 

Apil laughs. “I kept trying to get under your skin, and it never worked, it was infuriating.”

Sterling turns to her, a little teasing in her eyes that April has missed so much it physically hurts her chest to look at. 

“Why, I wonder, were you trying to get under _my_ skin specifically?”

April grins. “No comment.”

Sterling grins back, and it’s weird, it’s so weird that they somehow went from people who don’t talk to each other to people who share their traumas to people who are lightly flirting all in about twenty minutes. Not that April is complaining. At all. It’s kind of the best she’s felt in months. 

So, of course it can’t last. 

“Maybe,” Sterling says, a familiar flicker coming over her eye, “next year, I can actually utilize that pity and we can all have a joint birthday party.”

April wants to laugh at that, but she’s suddenly so close to crying.

“That would be nice,” she manages, and she hears the break in her throat, “but I - I won’t be here next year.”

Sterling’s brow furrows. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that in June, my mom and I are moving to Charleston. Her family’s there, kind of a built in support system, and there isn’t really anything here for us anymore.”

She swallows, willing herself not to cry as she finally looks at Sterling in the eye. 

“There’s really nothing here for you?” Sterling whispers.

Before she knows what she’s doing, April reaches out a hand and clutches Sterling’s. 

“I wouldn’t say nothing.” 

Sterling looks down at where their hands are now clasped, then up into April's eyes. Sterling’s eyes are watering again and April knows hers are too. It feels a little like last fall on that bench, but like they’ve aged 10 years since then, but the hurt in April’s chest, the ache of missed possibilities, is still there.

“I’m really really going to miss you, April,” Sterling finally says. “I wish…”

“Me too.” 

They just stay there for a few moments before Sterling clears her throat.

“Man, senior year is going to majorly suck without you.”

“Think about how I feel. I have to start over.”

Sterling rolls her eyes fondly. 

“Please, you’re going to swoop in and impress the shit out of everyone at whatever school you go to in Charleston. You’ll run that place.”

April lets out a sharp laugh. 

“At this point, I just want to survive it.”

They stay there for a while longer, not saying anything, hands still firmly grasped in each other's, before Sterling lets out an almost comical gasp. 

“Oh my gosh, it’s like 30 minutes into class, I know I have a free, but you-“

April shrugs. “It’s gym. I’ll just show up late with an excuse.”

Sterling raises her eyebrows. 

“Never would have pegged you for the ditching class and lying to an authority figure type.”

“Some things are worth it.”

Sterling’s eyes look all watery again. 

“Thank you. I think I really needed this.” 

“Yeah,” April says, “I think I did too.”

At lunchtime that day, April slips away from the other students and gets into her car. There’s a Walgreens a few minutes from school and April drives there, then heads immediately for the greeting card aisle. The selection isn’t ideal, but April finds what she wants quickly. 

She makes it back with ten minutes to spare, enough time to sit in her car and hastily write a note in the card, before going inside and slipping it into Sterling’s locker, heart beating quicker than it should. 

The rest of her classes pass painlessly, and she manages to get out of AP Calc just in time to see Sterling at her locker. April really isn’t trying to be a weird stalker twice in one day, but she can’t help but silently watch as Sterling sees the card, a little bit of confusion painted on her face, before she opens it. 

It’s a cheesy one, the front a cartoon of an over-enthusiastic smiley face, reading _I’m just_ **_elated_ ** \- then on inside, in an aggressive font - _to wish you a happy_ **_belated_ ** _birthday (sorry I forgot)!_

It wasn’t April’s first choice, but it gets the job done. In the margins, she had scribbled, _I know it’s 12 days late, but happy birthday, Sterling. Next year, I won’t forget,_ then a heart by her name. 

She had wondered if it was a bit much, but now, she watches Sterling clasp a hand over her mouth, can see Sterling’s smile through it all, and knows it was worth it. Sterling’s eyes water a bit, but not the same sad tears from earlier on the bleachers, but bright and shiny tears that make Sterling simply glow. Her eyes flick up from the card and catch April’s. 

April feels herself turning red but she gets it under control enough to offer Sterling a smile down the hall. Sterling smiles back, looking radiant, clutching the card to her chest. 

_Thank you_ , she mouths. 

After that day, April starts telling people about the move. It’s kind of flattering in a weird way, a side effect of informing someone she’s leaving is that they tend to effuse about her in a way she can’t help but enjoy.

The best is probably Ellen, who pulls April into a very unprofessional hug, as she starts almost crying. 

“Well, I just don’t know what we’re going to do next year without you here,” she sniffles, reaching for a tissue. 

“I think you’ll be just fine,” April says. 

“It won’t be the same, though. If you need anything, anything at all, you just let me know, okay? Hey, now that I won’t be your teacher, you can add me on everything. Slide right into my DMs, as they say.”

April doesn’t have the heart to tell Ellen about the connotations of that particular phrase, instead she just smiles at her. 

“I was actually thinking, if you’d be interested in writing a letter of recommendation for college app-”

“Say no more!” Ellen almost screams, “I got you. Trust me, you are getting into every dang school you apply to.”

April feels herself grinning a little at that, the overwhelming enthusiasm of this woman, something that had in the past sometimes annoyed her now feeling like a gift. 

“Thank you,” she says, genuinely, “I’m really going to miss you.”

“Oh April, don’t you make me cry again.”

There are less tears with her other teachers, but still an amount of praise that April feels in her bones. 

She tells Ezekiel and Hannah B. at lunch a few days before her birthday, when they’re supposed to be studying for a chemistry test. 

“So, my mom and I are moving to Charleston in June,” she blurts out with no segue. 

They both just stare at her for a few seconds. 

“Wow,” Ezekiel finally says, “senior year is going to be so boring.” 

April smiles a little. 

“You’ll have to text me all the drama.” 

“Oh, I’ll be keeping you very informed, don’t worry.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Hannah B. asks, in an oddly perceptive way, “or should we just pretend we won’t super miss you and it’s just another day?”

For some reason, that makes April’s throat close up a little. She nods, swallowing. 

“The latter, please.”

“Okay,” Hannah B. says, before pulling out her phone. “I’ve been really into this app about astrology that tells you who you’re compatible with and how you can trace, like, everything back to your moon sign.”

April lets out a breath. This is good. Hannah B. prattling on about something as ridiculous as astrology is good, normal. It makes her feel like the ground isn’t moving beneath her for a moment. 

“Do you know what time you were born?” Hannah B. asks.

April rolls her eyes, but tells Hannah B. when she was born, handing over her phone so she can enter whatever she needs to enter.

“Oh, you would be a Virgo moon,” Ezekiel comments, looking over Hannah B.’s shoulder when April’s chart loads. 

“What does that even mean?” April says, and it comes out a little harsher than she intends.

“And that’s your Aries sun speaking,” Hannah B. says confidently. 

“This is stupid.”

“That’s your Virgo moon again.”

“Aren’t we supposed to be studying?”

“Capricorn rising.”

“I will kill the both of you and be happy about it.”

Neither of them say anything until Ezekiel looks back at the phone and then stage whispers, “ _such_ an Aries.”

“Who’s an Aries?”

April turns to see Blair Wesley approach their table, Sterling in tow, probably brought on by their incessant yelling. 

“April,” Hannah B. says cheerily. “Hey, you guys are also both Aries, right? Your birthday was just last week!”

And April didn’t even think about this part of the whole Sterling having a different birthday thing, that she won’t be able to participate in what for some reason has become the cultural norm of attributing personality traits to the deep recesses of space. April watches as Blair glances at Sterling, whose shoulders tense minutely, before quickly nodding and smiling at Hannah B.

“Yup. March 26th.” Blair says. 

Ezekiel glances at April then over at Sterling before grinning. 

“Wow, just a bunch of fire signs here,” he comments offhandedly, “very hot.”

April could kill him. He’s been making these insufferable remarks ever since over Christmas break, when April had one glass of spiked eggnog at Ezekiel’s family’s Christmas party and thought it would be appropriate to spill her guts to him about the whole Sterling fiasco. And though, for obvious reasons, he hasn’t brought it up in front of anyone else, he still makes these obnoxious little comments.

Sterling glances over at Ezekiel and then April, a small smile playing on her lips. April feels herself blush. 

“Do you have a co-star?” Hannah B. asks, and just like that, Sterling’s smile disappears. 

Blair pulls out her phone, lets Hannah B. do her thing on it, while Sterling just looks down at her feet. 

“Gemini moon, that’s chaotic, girl,” Ezekiel says. 

“Thank you,” Blair responds. 

April knows that Blair is choosing to interact so Sterling doesn’t have to, but still it makes something inside her clench, that Sterling just has to sit there and indulge in these conversations about what time people were born, something she will never know. 

“Astrology is stupid,” April states firmly, eyes still on Sterling, “and we have that chem test to study for.”

Hannah B. opens her mouth, but before she can say anything April cuts her off. 

“And if you say I only want to study because of some Scorpio in my sixth house or whatever, I will not be helping you on this test.”

“It’s actually because of the Virgo in your chart,” Hannah B. mutters under her breath, but still, they go back to studying. 

After school that day, April opens up her laptop and hesitates a second before doing what she does best. She researches. 

Before she can overthink it, she composes a text to Sterling, copying the text from the website over. 

**_AS:_ ** _I stand by the fact that astrology is stupid and made up by New Age hippies who can’t just get a job, but if someone was hypothetically born on March 14, 2004 at an unknown time, they would be a Pisces sun and a Capricorn moon._  
**_AS:_ ** _“Pisces is a sensitive sign - both sensitive to criticism and sensitive to others' feelings. Easily touched by human suffering, at least in theory, Pisces wouldn't hurt a fly. They believe in people, are deeply hurt by compassionless human behavior, and have a hard time saying no.”_

She takes a minute, wondering how hard to push this. But there’s a bit of freedom in knowing that she’s leaving so soon, so she lets herself send the next text. 

**_AS:_ ** _I wouldn’t say this is an inaccurate assessment. If I recall, I don’t think there was any issue with you saying no at all._  
**_AS:_ ** _Wait, this one is bullshit, though._  
**_AS:_ ** _“Calm, cool, and collected - these words sum up Moon in Capricorn natives well.”_  
**_AS:_ ** _As if._

April looks down at her phone, realizes she’s just sent six texts in a row. She is not one to do that. Before she can spiral too much, Sterling’s response comes through. 

**_SW:_ ** _Hey I can be calm, cool and collected!!!!_  
**_AS:_ ** _Those exclamation points tell a different story._  
**_SW:_ ** _Okay, fine!!_  
**_SW:_ ** _How did you find all this information anyway?_  
**_AS:_ ** _Here’s the link. You can just say unknown time, and they still tell you lots of stuff._  
**_SW:_ ** _Oh my god, I am SUCH a Pisces. Wow._  
**_AS:_ ** _Maybe this was a mistake._  
**_SW:_ ** _Omg look at this too, apparently my Mercury is in Aries._  
**_SW:_ ** _“She makes quick decisions, may streamline learning, can be direct and straightforward in speech, possessing an innocent charm, and can easily motivate others with her enthusiasm.”_  
**_SW:_ ** _That’s literally my whole vibe._  
**_AS:_ ** _I wouldn’t call your charm fully innocent, but agreed._  
**_SW:_ ** _You got me there._  
**_SW:_ ** _This is really cool, though, April. Thank you._  
**_AS:_ ** _Of course._  
**_AS:_ ** _All of this stuff is frankly, a waste of time. But it wouldn’t be fair if you weren’t able to waste your time with the rest of them._

On the day of her actual birthday, April doesn’t really do much. Her mom gets her a nice card and some jewelry she won’t ever wear over breakfast, smiling apologetically. 

“Sorry we can’t have a big party this year, hun.”

“I’m more than okay with that, trust me.”

And, oddly, she is. School passes pretty much without incident. She braces herself for the singing in Spanish class and tries to make her smile not so fake when it comes. 

It’s messed up that she actually has to go to gym class on her birthday and she can’t even lie to Coach Boone again, given that last week she was allegedly on her period. She’s about to change in preparation for what will surely be ninety minutes of sweaty disgusting hell, when someone calls her name across the room. 

She turns to see Coach Boone talking to Blair Wesley, gesturing her over. April approaches with trepidation. 

“Blair here tells me that you and her have that big Spanish test coming up.”

April looks at Blair with confusion. Blair just nods eagerly. 

“Yeah, oh man, and my grades are _no bueno_ in that class, if you feel me. Señora O’Reilly says if I don’t get at least a B, well there goes my whole GPA. And if that goes down, woof, there goes me being allowed on any sports teams, so I was thinking, Coach, if you let April tutor me for this period, maybe I can ace that test.”

Coach Boone looks at April expectantly. From behind her, Blair does an approximation of a wink. April has absolutely no idea what is going on, but she’s sure as hell not giving up a chance to miss out on gym class. 

“That’s right,” April says seriously, “I think we can definitely get Blair’s grades up.”

Coach Boone sighs. “All right, just this once. We need you out there on the field, Wesley.”

As soon as they’ve cleared gym class, April turns to Blair. 

“Okay, what’s going on?”

“Damn, dude, I thought you were smart. I just got you out of gym class. Happy birthday.”

April rolls her eyes. 

“I got that part. Why, though? You hate me.”

“You’re so dramatic, I don’t hate you.”

April shoots her a glare, which is honestly quite impressive of her as they are currently walking quickly down the hallway.

“Okay, fine,” Blair says, “I may have thought of creative ways to hide your body after you shattered my sister’s heart into a million tiny little pieces, and also when you got to see BTS for your fifteenth birthday when you’re not even a _real fan,_ but-”

“That was a good year.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to be genuine! Even though I may have had less than pleasant feelings about you, you really made Sterling feel better about everything last week.”

“I - I did?”

“Yeah, I think it really helped to talk to someone about it all. And God, she was so excited the other day, comparing where our planets are and all that shit. It felt like - it felt like how it did before. And trust me, I kind of hate that I owe some of that to you. But, I do, so here we are.”

April feels all warm in her toes at the thought of her being able to make Sterling feel good again, but she tries not to let it show on her face as she follows Blair outside to the parking lot. 

“So where are we going?” 

“You’ll see. Come on.”

April follows Blair to where her parents’ Chevy Volt is parked. April tries not to remember the last time she was in this car, the way the windows had fogged up, the way that Sterling had breathed her name like it was the most important thing in the world. 

It’s hard to forget, especially when the passenger’s seat window rolls down and Sterling is grinning at her from it. 

“Happy birthday!” She says cheerfully, before turning to Blair. “We ready to go?”

“All clear. Get in the backseat, Stevens.”

There are so many reasons why April should absolutely not revisit the backseat of this particular car, but still, she finds herself opening the door and sliding in. It is her birthday after all. 

“So, are either of you going to tell me where we are going?”

The twins share a secret little look, one that two weeks ago, April would have marked under things that are annoying, but now, it makes a little warmth pool in her gut, that no matter who anyone’s parents are, they will have each other’s back.

“So, we were thinking,” Blair says with a grin, “we can’t let you break your winning streak like this.”

“What do you mean?”

“Every year, though I truly fucking hate it, you have a better birthday party than us. Why stop now?”

“You guys didn’t even have a birthday party this year.”

“Exactly!’ Sterling says. “So it’s a pretty low bar.”

April is still confused, but there’s something thrilling about this, about being taken to some unknown location, not because she planned it or called in favors, but because these people actually were thinking about her. 

They pull up in a decidedly different neighborhood than where Willingham is, in front of a bright cartoonish mural. She blinks at it for a second before following the Wesleys outside of the car and into what turns out to be a pretty standard frozen yogurt shop. 

Except there is a colorful banner, clearly meant for a five year old, hanging over the counter, garishly spelling out _Happy Birthday_ in the store bought font, with a hand drawn _April_ hastily tacked on. 

A middle aged man with a disgruntled expression stands behind the counter with a bright pink party hat on that heavily clashes with the bright purple of his visor. 

“Hi there,” he says in a monotone, “free yogurt for your birthday?”

“Bowser!” Sterling whines, “we talked about this. Energy level up, just like we practiced!”

“Forgive me,” the man who is apparently Bowser deadpans, before putting on a fake cheery voice, “fuh-ree yogurt!! For your birthday!!”

“Hmm, four out of ten,” Blair says. 

“Come on, that was at least a six.”

As the two of them continue to squabble, April turns to Sterling, who is bouncing a little on her toes. 

“So, um, do you like it?” She asks, “I know it’s not exactly Coachella, but I figure, you know, you deserve to be celebrated.”

April swallows a little, looks around at the decorations that are so clearly last minute and definitely aimed for someone ten years her junior, at the now escalating argument between Blair and Bowser, and then at Sterling, smiling at her with such transparent hope. 

“I love it,” April says, honestly. 

Sterling grins at her, before grabbing her hand and leading her to the counter and April is pretty sure that this is the best birthday she’s ever had.


End file.
